


The Immortal Game

by jt_boiN7 (0_jtboi_SR2)



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/F, From Sex to Love, Renegade Shepard (Mass Effect), Sort Of, Very Very Renegade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 15:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20212144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0_jtboi_SR2/pseuds/jt_boiN7
Summary: Aria realizes she has more in common with Commander Shepard than she thought.





	1. Opening

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ancient work I had orphaned forever ago on FF.net. A recent challenge inspired me to finish it. The first two chapters were originally published in 2013. Better late than never, right?

Aria wasn't surprised when Shepard strode into the VIP area of the garish club the Citadel's sheep called Purgatory and she called Hell. She'd known that the human had been onboard the station for a few hours now, drumming up what support she could for the war, and probably making as many enemies as she was allies. It really was only a matter of time before she sought audience with the Queen of Omega. Everyone came to her eventually. Even here.

She took the same disaffected air that she did with everyone, even though Shepard was not like most people. Aria had always been intrigued by the Spectre, whether she cared to admit it or not. Shepard had breezed onto Omega with an ease and confidence that Aria had originally mistaken for typical human bluster. However, Shepard proved herself to be rather at home in the slums of Aria's de facto kingdom, and Aria had realized that, while the human did possess an irritating cockiness about her, she was also quite capable. And downright nasty. Aria appreciated the moral grey area Shepard so comfortably resided in, and while she wouldn't go so far as to say that she admired the human, Aria had a healthy respect for her.

Shepard hadn't changed since Aria had last seen her on Omega--same shock of cropped red hair, same smoldering eyes, same fucking smirk. Aria remembered the eyes more than anything, only because it was rare to see those types of implants in a human. The atmosphere seemed to crackle as Shepard sat down on the couch, knowing instinctively to keep her distance. Aria dismissed the bothersome immigration agent and turned to her visitor.

"Guess there's one rule on the Citadel, huh?"

Same fucking wise mouth.

"I guess so." Aria gestured at the burly batarian next to her, who in turn waved over an asari server. The maiden gracefully walked over with a tray of drinks, and Shepard eyed the asari's lithe form as she placed two on the table in front of them. Aria held back a smile.

Same fucking tastes.

They spoke of Omega, the Illusive Man, Aria’s hatred of the damn Citadel. Shepard's interest was piqued when Aria informed her of the merc army just at her fingertips, and what she'd need to do to get it. She agreed to the plan without much discussion, then leaned back to finish her drink.

Aria always did enjoy conducting business with her. Shepard was brusque and to the point, with little patience for wasting time. It was a trait Aria appreciated, and one that was surprisingly rare, even in her line of work. Aria watched Shepard's eyes rove over the club as she drank. Even though the human's gaze was cool and detached, she lingered on the occasional waitress or dancer that drifted into view, and it became apparent what Shepard was looking for. Aria inclined her chin slightly. She had assumed those needs were being met.

"What's the matter, Shepard? Your little girlfriend cut you off?" Aria couldn't resist needling her, especially if she was going to be so damn obvious about it.

Red eyes flashed. "Liara and I aren't together. Haven't been for awhile." Shepard made a face and put down her half-empty glass. "You're right--the drinks here are shit."

Aria arched a brow, ignoring the thinly-veiled attempt at a subject change. That was interesting. Apparently the maiden’s devotion to her commander was not as deep as Aria originally thought. It also appeared to be a sore subject, something that Aria would definitely file away for future use.

"I know several upstanding young ladies who would be willing to help you with that," she offered, making a broad, sweeping gesture with her arm towards the rest of the club.

Shepard shook her head. "No. The last thing I need is to owe you any favors."

Strangely wounded by the comment, Aria peered over Shepard’s shoulder at the lower bar. She raised a single finger at the bored-looking maiden that had the misfortune of being cornered by an exuberant turian. "This one is on me. Her name is Alysia. A dancer here, just finished her shift. She likes poetry, long walks across the beach, and getting spanked mercilessly. Perfect for you."

Shepard looked over to where Aria was pointing, and nodded slightly in appreciation. "Speaking from experience, are you?"

Aria just shrugged. The turian had finally gotten the hint, and Alysia was now alone by the corner of the bar. Shepard stood and drained the rest of her previously abandoned drink.

"I'll see you around, Aria." She gave Aria her usual smirk and left the VIP area.

The human moved remarkably fast. There were the cursory introductions, a few-well time jokes, then the slight brush of a hand against Alysia's lower back. The bill was quickly paid, and the couple headed towards the exit. Aria couldn't help but be impressed as she watched Shepard gently guide the dancer out of the bar. Just before they left, Shepard looked up towards the VIP booth and caught Aria's gaze. Her smile broadened.

Aria shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable. But she told herself that it was nothing, and the feeling quickly passed.

***

Aria saw Shepard again a few days later. The commander had shown up at the club with a few of her crew, but quickly segregated herself, striding past the VIP booth and exchanging matching looks of disinterest. Aria thought that would be the extent of their interaction until about an hour later, when the massive batarian, Jerra, leaned over to tell her that Shepard had just put two turians and an elcor in the hospital. She sighed and rolled her eyes, then nodded at Grizz.

Shepard was deposited unceremoniously in the center of the booth a few moments later--bloodied, intoxicated, and in a foul mood.

"The fuck do you want?" Shepard snarled as she leaned precariously to one side. She swiped at her bruised lip and spat blood onto the carpet, barely missing Aria's very new, very expensive designer boot. She frowned. If Shepard dared ruin her shoes, she would damn well carve the next pair out of the human's hide.

"Sit down before you fall down, Shepard," Aria said, concealing her annoyance with a dismissive wave. She glanced over at a nearby datapad, deliberately ignoring Shepard for a moment.

Out of the corner of her eye, Aria saw Jerra grab Shepard's arm. She knew it was a mistake--he had always been a bit overeager--but before she could say anything he was on the ground, Shepard standing over him. Red eyes bored into Jerra like molten ore as he gingerly rubbed his jaw. “Don’t _ever _touch me.” Then, Shepard turned. “And fuck you, Aria. I'm not some goddamn pet you can call down here whenever you want."

Instantly, the pistol was cocked and pointed at Shepard’s head. No one spoke to Aria like that, not even on the Citadel, and the ever helpful Grizz was sure to remind Shepard of that fact--even though he had the good sense to stay out of arm’s length.

But if Shepard was at all unnerved by the loaded weapon aimed directly at her, she gave no indication. Instead, she glared at Aria with those smoldering eyes, then threw her head back and laughed.

"Really?" Shepard said, almost sneering. "You're gonna shoot me? Go right ahead.”

Aria didn't have the slightest idea what had gotten into the normally unflappable soldier, and while it was unusual, found she really didn't care as much as she should have. What did concern her, however, was her body's very sudden, very distinct reaction to it. As Aria appraised Shepard, taking in her fiery eyes, the thin line of blood running from the corner of her mouth, the way her fingers slightly hooked into the waist of her pants as she stood with her hands on her hips, she felt her heartbeat quicken, and a flush of warmth raced through her.

Aria thought she knew her predilections quite well; she had never been into humans, especially the males, and preferred to stick to turians or her own species for recreational purposes. And so it came as quite a surprise when she realized that the sight of a righteously pissed off Shepard was, actually, kind of a turn on.

Aria gave Grizz a look and he lowered his pistol, returning to his post at the VIP entrance. Jerra staggered after him. She gestured at the couch and tried again.

"I'm doing you another favor. Sit down. The last thing people need to see is the supposed Savior of the Galaxy fighting with a damn elcor."

Shepard sat down with a huff. "I didn't mean to hit him with that bottle. That turian ducked too damn fast." She leaned forward and loosely intertwined her fingers in front of her, then began bouncing her foot on the carpet. Aria found her gaze drawn to Shepard's sinewy forearms and lean, muscular hands.

"For future reference, I would avoid very public, very noisy bar fights from now on. It doesn't look good on you," Aria said, even though a part of her had decided the fight had looked very good on Shepard indeed. What the hell had gotten into her? She must be in a longer dry spell than she thought if she was being tempted by a damn human.

But, this wasn't just any human.

Aria frowned. She had never seen someone so tense; Shepard was a ball of tight, corded muscle and looked like she was about ready to jump out of her skin. Shepard wore the same darkly hungry expression on her face she had the last time they'd spoken, and it was clear that the young Alysia's charms had done nothing to alleviate her tension. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Aria saw that hunger intensify as Shepard dropped her gaze to rake unabashedly over Aria’s body.

Sleep with Shepard. Why the hell not? Besides, if she had to fuck another one of those vacuous, bubble-headed dancers she would probably explode. And not in a good way.

With a graceful flick of her hand, Aria's omni tool came to life. She made a few taps, and then Shepard's wrist began to beep. The human scowled at the incoming message.

"What the fuck is this?"

"My last favor. Sober up and meet me in my apartment. One hour." Aria stood and sauntered away before Shepard responded, making sure to add an extra sway to her hips as she walked towards the private elevator. Aria felt the heat of Shepard's gaze on her the entire time, and allowed herself a cocky smirk of her own as the doors closed behind her.

__  
***_ _

Aria sat back in thick cushions of her couch, nursing a brandy and casting the occasional glance towards her omni tool. She knew Shepard was making her wait, but was only mildly annoyed at that fact. Aria knew how the game was played, and, honestly, part of her would have been disappointed if Shepard didn't understand the rules as well. Show up too early and you'll look desperate; show up too late and you'll look like an ass. Aria swirled the liquor in her glass and began a silent countdown. The door chimed just as she hit zero, at precisely one hour and seven minutes since she'd left the club.

Shepard entered silently and stood just at the entrance to the luxury apartment, eyes sweeping across the living area from left to right, then back again, before finally coming to rest on Aria. The redness Shepard’s eyes had dimmed somewhat and her gaze was sharp and clear. Aria felt that same rush of warmth shoot through her again.

"I'd offer you a drink, but I'm sure you've had enough.” Aria took a very deliberate sip, looking at Shepard from over the rim of the heavy tumbler. Shepard didn't respond, instead just taking two tentative steps into the apartment, still furtively glancing about the room.

Aria rolled her eyes. "Really, Shepard? If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already." Shepard's head snapped over and Aria saw that bright flash of red again. She wondered, for the briefest of moments, what the human's eyes had looked like before the implants.

"What's your endgame, Aria?" Shepard asked.

Aria heaved a sigh and stood up from the couch. She wasn't opposed to making the first move, but Shepard's hesitation was starting to piss her off. It wasn't like she made offers like this every day, and certainly never to a human. Although, part of her could understand Shepard's wariness--in both of their respective industries, trust was a rare commodity.

"I'm looking to get laid. Which is something I thought you could appreciate." Aria slowly shrugged off her jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair. She walked around the couch and turned to enter her bedroom, pausing at the doorway and calling over her shoulder. "Now, you can either pull your head out of your ass and join me, or you can show yourself out." She went into the bedroom without another word.

Shepard moved remarkably fast.

A pair of strong hands were on Aria’s waist, pulling her a step backwards, and a warm mouth suddenly on the sensitive folds on the back of her neck. She inhaled sharply, and reached back to clutch at Shepard's hair as the human's arms tightened around her. She was struck not only by Shepard's strength, but her sheer mass, heavy fatigues and tightly wound muscle pressing insistently against her. Aria felt her belt being deftly undone, and slender fingers slowing moving down the front of her pants.

Not to be outmatched, Aria flared her biotics enough to loosen Shepard’s grip then spun around. Their mouths crashed together, Aria dragging her fingers through Shepard’s hair and down her neck. She grabbed hold of Shepard’s collar, hands wreathed in blue, and threw Shepard onto the bed.

_ _***_ _

The call came in a few days later. It was on a private channel, and had been encrypted and coded and scrambled in so many dizzying ways that it could only be from one person. Grizz silently stepped away without even having to be asked. A familiar, husky voice crackled over the comm link.

"So, you want me to kill Oraka or what?"

Aria rolled her eyes. Apparently Shepard was finally getting around to dealing with the mercs, and of course their first conversation since sleeping together would be about assassinating a high-ranking military official.

"I thought you might employ a little diplomacy first. Talk to him, see if you can get him to lay off. That's all Vosque needs."

A strange noise came over the comm, something akin to a strangled grumble, and Aria seriously wondered if Shepard was pouting because she hadn't been given permission to shoot first. "I'm not one for talking. All my negotiations seem to end in a hail of gunfire," Shepard said.

"Through no fault of your own, I'm sure." Despite her best efforts, the corners of Aria's mouth turned upwards into a slight smile. A bored-looking waitress ambled by, and Aria snatched a brandy off the maiden's tray without giving her a second look.

"What can I say? Chaos and destruction follow me everywhere," Shepard said dryly. "Why didn't you just tell me all this in the first place?"

"Because Vosque needed to realize who he was dealing with. And if I have to suffer that scumbag staring at my tits one more time, I might have to kill him."

Shepard laughed, a low, gravelly sound that rumbled through the comm channel. Aria’s pulse quickened, and she quickly took a sip of her drink.

"He seems to have the impression that you two have an arrangement," Shepard said.

Aria snorted. "That idiot is delusional if he thinks I'm going to sleep with him."

"I wouldn't worry about it. He can't do much of that with a ruptured scrotum."

Aria made a face. "That's disgusting.” Leave it to human males to keep the most sensitive parts of their genitalia on the exterior of their bodies. Most other species had the good sense to keep it inside, at least when it was not being used.

"Hey, if anyone deserved a swift kick to the crotch, it was that asshole." Although Shepard’s tone was light, Aria thought she could discern a slight strain in her voice.

"So you're defending my honor now, Shepard? How noble of you."

"I think I'm way too late for that.” The smugness in the reply was evident even over the comm link. Aria could just picture that stupid, cocky grin plastered across Shepard’s face as she spoke. "Besides, Vosque wouldn't know what to do with you, even if he did get the chance."

"And you do?" Her response came before she realized what was happening. Was she...flirting? The notion was utterly preposterous; she never fucking flirted, and especially not with an irritating, obnoxious human. And yet, even as she thought about it, that slight smile kept tugging insistently at her mouth, and the warmth pooling in her lower abdomen that she tried to attribute to the brandy was becoming harder to ignore.

"I didn't hear any complaints the other night," Shepard said.

"You were the one begging me not to stop," Aria shot back.

A heavy silence fell between them, thick with innuendo. Aria was determined not to surrender, but the silence stretched on for so long it was nearly unbearable, and the rush of warmth was turning into a distinct throb. She finally opened her mouth to speak, but it was Shepard who broke first.

"So what are you doing later?"


	2. Middlegame

Aria didn't like surprises. In her profession, most surprises tended to be of a decidedly unhealthy nature. Vigilance and awareness were paramount, and she never stepped into a situation where she hadn’t already figured out all the angles. And so it pained her to admit that Shepard had, in fact, surprised her.

Shepard proved to be remarkably adept in the bedroom and certainly was familiar with the finer points of asari physiology, perhaps even more so than some members of Aria's own species. Aria had heard rumors on Omega about the commander's supposed prowess, but immediately dismissed them as the exaggerations of one (or two) easily-excited maidens. She soon discovered the accuracy of those tales, however, and was given the rare opportunity in which she could thoroughly and completely enjoy being wrong.

Shepard also had an instinctive understanding of the situation, even though they never discussed the particulars. Shepard handled their arrangement like she did everything else: straightforward and with little pretense. And if such an approach was rare in business negotiations, it was damn near nonexistent when it came to sex. Whenever Aria received notification that the Normandy had docked she knew to expect Shepard within a matter of hours. They would talk briefly, just long enough to finish a drink or two, and then leave for Aria's apartment. They would fuck but never actually meld, neither of them interested in nor needing that intimate of a connection. Shepard never spent the night, and Aria never offered.

Really, Aria couldn't be more pleased with how things were proceeding. She was never one to turn down a good lay, and Shepard, in all honesty, was the best she'd had in years. And even though Shepard never hinted to it, there was enough evidence to suggest the feeling was mutual. Aria took smug satisfaction in the fact that, no matter how tired or drained Shepard appeared when she arrived, she always left with a renewed sharpness in those burning red eyes. Aria considered it her own private contribution to the war effort.

The war. No matter how much she was enjoying herself, the realities of galactic war loomed over everything they did. More and more worlds fell as the Reapers pressed forward, and the Citadel was dangerously overrun with refugees. The crowds at Purgatory became denser, the alcohol consumed faster, the dancing became more desperate...and Shepard's visits became less and less frequent.

And, in spite of herself, Aria began to worry.

***

Aria told herself it didn't matter. At first, she had been pissed when Shepard ambled into the VIP booth as if nothing had changed, even though they both knew it had been nearly a month since they'd last slept together. Her base instincts had taken over surprisingly quickly, however, and after launching a relatively mild string of expletives at Shepard’s face she dragged the human back to her apartment. Eventually Aria’s irritation faded as they fell into the rhythm that came so damn easily: bullshit small talk, drinks, and sex. Lots of sex. 

But now there was something else bothering her. Deep into their third session, Aria was on top, hands pinning Shepard to the bed as she ground down onto the toy Shepard wore. Even though she was nearing release, Aria couldn't stop staring at Shepard’s face. Despite the blazing implants, Shepard's eyes were dull and listless, gazing vacantly at a distant spot over Aria’s shoulder. Aria told herself it shouldn’t fucking matter--Shepard’s body was completely engaged and actively pushing Aria towards her peak. But that wasn’t good enough. Who the fuck did she think she was, showing up unannounced after weeks and expecting to get laid? Aria never made concessions like that, was never one to be so accommodating. Even the toy had been Shepard’s idea. The absolute least she could do was fucking  _ pay attention. _

Aria yanked at Shepard's deep red hair, jerking her head over so their eyes met. She captured Shepard's lower lip with her teeth and bit down, tasting blood. "Where the hell are you?" she growled. 

Shepard pulled away, snapping back into reality. Her gaze sharpened and she fixed Aria with a fierce glare. "Right here," she grunted, then shifted her weight and threw Aria onto her back. 

Aria grimaced at the change in pace. Her biotics flared, but Shepard ignored the warning as her rhythm deliberately slowed, pulling Aria back from release. It was obvious what was happening; this was all about control, and denying Aria what she was so clearly about to get was Shepard’s way of reasserting herself. Aria's frustration and anger came back in full force. Shepard was in dangerous territory now, but if she realized it she didn’t care. She gave Aria that cocky smirk again, then bent forward and bit her lip in return. Shepard slowed her hips down to an even more maddening pace, and Aria’s eyes began to blacken.

Shepard smiled around Aria’s lips. “Fucking do it, then.” 

Aria didn't bother with a reply. She dug her nails into Shepard’s neck, forced their mouths together, and slammed her mind into Shepard's.

Shepard had erected the usual mental barriers, but they were weak and undisciplined, developed from years of melding with young, inexperienced maidens. And Aria was no maiden. The walls crumbled at the sheer force of meld, and Aria tumbled deeper into Shepard's mind than she had originally intended. A flurry of images and emotions rocketed by at a dizzying speed, and Aria could barely make sense of what she was experiencing. She caught a flash of an adolescent Shepard, watching in horror as her family was murdered before her by a group of batarian slavers. She felt Shepard's palpable glee in vengeance, as years later she cut down slaver after slaver on Torfan. She saw a large galaxy display hover over her, and Shepard bathed in a crimson light that matched her eyes, watching impassively as more systems turned red, the collective weight of her entire crew upon her as they looked at her expectantly. A lone tendril of smoke rising from a pistol, and Mordin Solus slumped against the controls of a lift about to be engulfed in flames.

Aria was about to pull back when everything vanished. Their nervous systems became fully entwined, and two beings became one. They shared each other's sensations, and Shepard began moving faster, returning to the earlier pace that Aria desired, only now she was driving them both towards climax. Shepard’s mouth was on her neck, teeth sinking into pliable flesh, and she raked her nails down Shepard's back, feeling the sharp echo of her touch on her own shoulder blades.

They came crashing down together. Aria heard the sound of someone crying out, but it was impossible to tell if the noise came from her or Shepard. It took her some time to come back to her senses, and after a moment she realized they were still wrapped tightly around each other, hearts pounding. Aria closed the meld and slowly loosened her grip on Shepard, unclenching her thighs and hands. Shepard kept her face buried in Aria's neck as she gasped for air. Before Aria realized what she was doing, her fingers slowly began threading through the human's hair.

"Shepard, I--”

"Don't." Shepard raised her head. Her eyes were fire. She slid off Aria and moved to the other side of the bed. She clutched at her forehead, then turned away. "I guess there's still one rule on the Citadel, huh?” 

Shepard got off the bed and went into the bathroom without another word.

***

Aria didn't think it was possible to hate Purgatory any more than she already did. For the past several weeks everything about the club, the wards, the whole damned Citadel just seemed like shit. She sat on the divan in her lounge, sipping at an insultingly weak brandy, a sour look on her face as perused the club. Grizz and Jerra stood off to the side, giving her more space than they usually did, knowing full well it was in their best interests just to stay the fuck away. 

Aria scowled. She thought of Omega, of how she had been so unceremoniously relieved of what was rightfully hers, and how she would get it back. Her plans were set in motion, and she knew it would only be a matter of time. She had no idea what the Illusive Man was planning, but it was clear that Cerberus was stretched thin--the recent coup attempt was more than evidence of that fact. Soon he would turn away from Omega just enough to allow her the opening she needed.

She supposed the coup--or, as she referred to it, Udina's Colossal Fuckup--did have something to do with her current disposition. The discord had not made its way down to the wards, but the effect of Cerberus's presence reverberated throughout the entire station. The nice, cozy bubble that the residents of the Presidum so comfortably lived in had been popped in dramatic fashion, and it was finally hitting home to these people that there was actually a fucking war on. They were trying to leave the station in droves, only to realize that nowhere was safe, not with the Reapers continuing their march across the galaxy. And so they languished in the wards, coming to Purgatory in the most literal sense of the term, the thrum of their panic matching the rhythm of the assaultive dance beats as they waited desperately for something to save them.

Or someone.

Aria drained her drink and quickly picked up another. No matter how hard she tried, Shepard was never far from her thoughts. It was impossible to be completely free of the human, as her exploits were now being broadcast throughout the damned universe, especially after she and her crew had swooped in so theatrically during the coup. But what bothered her the most, and what she hated to admit, was the disappointment that Shepard had been on the Citadel and not come to see her.

But Aria had understood why.

She hadn't meant to dive that deeply during the meld, and she was sure she had witnessed things that no one was supposed to see. And while she wasn't exactly sorry, she still...regretted how their last encounter had ended. She told herself that it was because she had lost the company of an extremely skilled partner, but a nagging feeling kept telling her there was more to it than that.

Aria shook her head, as if trying to physically banish the thought. Shepard had been a welcome distraction, and that was all.

She slammed the rest of her drink with a grimace and stood. Both Grizz and Jerra ignored her as she stomped over to her private elevator. She was sick of the club, the people, the drinks, and wanted nothing more than to retire for the evening before she was forced to witness the same shit all over again the next day.

The lone figure leaning against the wall near the lift was immediately recognizable. Even if Aria hadn't been intimately familiar with their body, the bright red orbs glowing eerily in the shadows could only belong to one person. She crossed her arms and glared, silently readying an arsenal of finely-tuned epithets. But as Shepard stepped into the light, the scathing greetings died on Aria's lips.

For the first time, Aria saw that the marks that scoured Shepard's face weren't scars at all. Scarring implied that the act of healing had occurred, that a wound had once existed and was now gone. What Aria looked at now was the exact opposite of such an event.

The skin on Shepard's face was splitting apart. There were no jagged edges, no rough cutting that could be explained by a blade that sliced too close. No blood. Instead, the wounds had an eerily surgical quality to them, as if a neat incision had been made and then pried open. Beneath the gaping wounds, Aria saw the throbbing, glowing mass of cybernetics that ran throughout Shepard's musculature. Shepard’s eyes burned so intensely it was unnerving, but what was even more unsettling was how deeply they had sunken into their sockets. Dark rings sat below her eyes, met by hollowed cheekbones. The familiar, irritating smirk was nowhere to be found.

It was only through centuries of training and habit that Aria kept her face from betraying any emotion. Aria looked the human up and down, forcing away her concern. Shepard’s jaw tensed, and Aria wondered if she was expecting to be struck, or just turned away altogether. Their eyes met.

Aria uncrossed her arms and began walking towards the lift. She glanced over her shoulder and arched a brow. 

Shepard followed.

***

Aria flopped onto her back, vision swimming. She slowly closed the meld, extracting herself from the sensations and images that were overwhelming her just a moment ago. Shepard collapsed next to her, her forehead falling onto Aria’s shoulder. 

"I swear, Shepard, you could give a seminar on that," Aria said, still catching her breath.

"Really?" Shepard’s lips brushed across her collarbone. "I'm Aria T'Loak approved?"

"Don't get cocky." For an instant, Aria ran her fingers through Shepard's hair before she flattened her palm against the crown of the human's head and pushed her away. "All I'm saying is if this whole 'super soldier' thing doesn't work out, you have other marketable skills to fall back on."

Shepard moved onto her back without protest. "I'll start working on my resume.” She sank back into the pillow beneath her and rubbed at her face, barely managing to stifle a yawn. 

Aria rolled to her side, propping her head up on her palm and eyeing Shepard critically. The deep marks on her face looked less vicious now and didn't glow so harshly, even in the dim lighting of Aria's bedroom. Her features were still heavy and drawn, though, and it was obvious that their activity had only given Shepard the briefest of respites.

"When was the last time you slept?" Aria asked, her voice adopting a tone that she barely recognized.

"I'll sleep when I'm dead." Shepard's eyes flashed and she gave Aria a wry grin. "Literally." She pulled herself over to the other side of the bed, and hauled herself up to a sitting position facing away from Aria. The muscles in Shepard's back flexed as she rubbed at her face again, then slowly bent over to retrieve an article of clothing. Aria noted that the markings extended down Shepard's back as well, the crisscrossing slices making it look like she had been flayed with a whip. But underneath that, Aria could also see true scarring: small, white strips of skin that were the remnants of injuries inflicted years ago.

Exhaustion was evident in every movement Shepard made, and Aria thought back to their earlier meld. Her mind had reached out slowly, an invitation to share pleasure as a peace offering for the last time they had been together. Shepard, unexpectedly, had drawn her in, allowing them to become enmeshed within each other. Aria hadn't pushed as hard, and Shepard had effectively sealed off her memories this time, but despite that Aria was immersed in a flood of emotion. She tasted Shepard's frustration and anger, her weariness, her desperation, and the near-crippling strain of the knowledge that the fate of the universe depended on her and her alone.

Aria had no idea how Shepard had managed to make it this far, and as she considered it, she felt her own flash of anger at how utterly selfish it was to lay the entire outcome of the war at the feet of one person. Who were these people--the Alliance, the Council, Shepard's own crew--to demand that a single human save them from annihilation? What fucking sense did that make? They can't manage to save themselves, and so now they put all of their faith and hope and belief into one thing, and expect everything to be just fine.

"I don't understand how you do it," Aria said.

"Do what?" Shepard moved her head, but didn't look at Aria. She began pulling on her undergarments, and Aria winced slightly as the straps of Shepard's compression shirt raked across the open wounds.

"Fight like this. Sacrifice so much of yourself for people who don't give a damn about you."

Shepard's broad shoulders sagged forward and she sighed. "Apparently someone has to," she said, pure bitterness edging into her tone.

"Bullshit."

Shepard finally turned on her, twisting around and slapping her hand down on the mattress. "What the fuck do you know about it, Aria?"

Aria sat up suddenly, and the thin sheet covering her breasts fell and pooled around her waist. She jabbed a finger at Shepard, ignoring how her gaze had momentarily drifted southward. "I know how the universe works. How it's terrible and unforgiving, and how people use and take until there is nothing left. And I know how your precious fucking Alliance and Council loves nothing more to hold you up like some damn hero, only to tear you down when you become an inconvenience. Don't you ever think about how different this war would be if they would have fucking listened to you the first time? Or the  _ second _ ?"

Shepard’s eyes widened, surprised at the comment, as if she hadn't expected Aria to have been bothered enough to pay attention to her career. Part of that was true, certainly; activities in council space were usually of little interest to Aria, but the whole mess with Saren--and the Council's subsequent disavowing of Shepard's report--had been impossible to miss. And, of course, the destruction of the Alpha Relay and Shepard's incarceration was also inescapable. Aria had heard through several of her political contacts, including asari councilor's office, that there had even been serious internal debate over whether to surrender Shepard to the batarians.

Shepard’s hand tightened around the sheets, bunching them into her fist. "Why do you care?"

Aria let her hand fall, and it landed on her bed near Shepard's. She sighed and paused a moment before replying. Why  _ did _ she care? 

"Because I know what it's like to have everyone look to you for a decision," she said softly. "To not be able to let a shred of doubt slip through. Or show even a second of weakness, even to those who are supposed to be closest to you."

Shepard let out a short bark of laughter. She rubbed at her face, then scraped her fingers through her hair, further mussing the thick red curls. Aria saw Shepard’s jaw flex, and it looked as if she was stifling another yawn.

Aria shifted, then spoke again, almost disbelieving the words she was saying even as they came out of her mouth. "You don't have to leave."

Shepard jerked slightly. "I thought you didn't do sleepovers."

Aria rolled her eyes. Goddess-dammit, she was trying to be  _ nice _ , for once _ .  _ "Fucking hell, Shepard, I'm not proposing to you. You look like you need the sleep, so stay. Or go back to the Normandy. Either way, you're not going to be worth a damn until you get some rest."

With that, Aria flopped back down on the bed and turned onto her side, perhaps a bit more theatrically than she needed to. She waited several long seconds, hearing only the sound of her own breathing Then the bed shifted and Shepard slid in next to her. Aria could feel the heat from the human's body and immediately tensed, but Shepard didn't move any closer. She rolled over to glance over her shoulder. Shepard had her back to Aria and was already fast asleep.


	3. Endgame

Shepard was waiting when the door of the skycar opened, just as Aria knew she would be. Burning red eyes scanned the interior and the driver’s seat before she slid inside. As always, Shepard tensed when she saw Jerra, but quickly played it off. They had eased into something of a truce since their first encounter at Purgatory. Grizz seemed to like her too, and the two bodyguards’ affection towards Shepard annoyed the shit out of Aria. 

“Still letting her boss you around, Jerra?” Shepard said with a grin. 

“Eh.” Jerra shrugged. “It’s hard to find good vision plans these days.”

“Or decent help,” Aria snarled, throwing a data pad into Shepard’s lap. Jerra cleared his throat and hunkered down in the driver’s seat. 

Shepard’s eyes widened as she scanned the pad. “Holy shit, you’re doing it.” She looked up at Aria and the smirk widened into something resembling an actual smile. It was an expression Aria had seen but a handful of times--usually between the second and third drink, with Shepard’s hand slowly working down the front of Aria’s pants.

Aria pushed the thought away. “Cerberus holding Omega seriously bolsters its mobility. They’ve spread all over the galaxy. Surely the Alliance has noticed.” 

“And?”

“You help me, I’ll help you.” 

Shepard cocked her head. Aria saw the snide remark form on Shepard’s lips, and was surprised when it remained unsaid. Genuine curiosity flashed across her face. Aria watched as she thumbed through the display, Petrovsky’s dossier flashing across the screen. Shepard’s fingers were trembling. Aria pretended not to notice. 

It had been another month had since they’d last seen each other. 

Shepard had stayed the following night as well, but only after Aria had made another offer. Though, it wasn’t so much an offer as a lack of outright rejection--Aria had merely rolled over and didn’t object when Shepard did the same. Aria was surprised to discover that sharing a bed with Shepard wasn’t at all unpleasant; the human was actually decent company after a full night’s rest and there was nothing like a satisfying bout of morning sex to make a day stuck in Purgatory slightly more palatable.

But the second morning Aria had been woken by Shepard’s blaring omnitool, followed by the smashing of said omnitool against her nightstand. Aria had nearly warped Shepard’s ass across the room for fucking up her furniture, but the look on Shepard’s face made her pause. The scars that criss-crossed her entire body were pulsating, the ocular implants a molten, livid red. While snatching up her clothes, Shepard explained that apparently the quarians had decided that _ this fucking moment _ was the right time to retake Rannoch. Aria almost laughed out loud. She had seen a lot of dumb ideas over the years, but that one struck her as especially foolish. And ill-fucking-advised. And short-sighted. And the last thing Shepard needed to deal with. 

Aria didn’t tell Shepard any of that, though. All she did was offer a dry “good luck” as Shepard stormed out of the apartment with her broken omnitool. 

After that, Aria had gone back to work. And tried very hard not to think of Shepard. 

Everything was falling into place, just as she planned. Her manpower and resources had doubled, just as Shepard and the Alliance were chipping away at Cerberus. She couldn’t afford to underestimate Petrovsky, but there was only so much he could do to hold Omega while Cerberus’s power was gradually waning. Intelligence reports showed that more and more ships were being peeled away from the blockade to report back to Council space, and with that information it was relatively easy to order a quick strike. A single cruiser would be enough to penetrate the blockade and launch her assault. Of course, once back on the station, it would devolve into a bloody, grinding ground advance. For that, she needed the best. 

It had actually been Bray’s idea. Once he had captured the Cerberus cruiser and Aria had decided to finally make her move, he had suggested reaching out to Shepard. Usually the implication that she needed assistance of any kind was met with a slap of a singularity, but Bray had a point. He was also annoyingly perceptive. Aria wondered how much Grizz had told him. 

The worst part was how pleased she had been when Shepard answered her message. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Shepard chucked the datapad back at Aria, still smiling. 

For the first time since Shepard got in the aircar, Aria allowed herself to really look at her. She didn’t think it was possible for the scars to appear worse, and yet somehow Shepard surprised her again. Jagged edges of flesh hung from sallow cheekbones, the implants below her skin strikingly visible, making her seem more machine than human. But above all else, Shepard was utterly drained; beyond all measures of exhaustion, to the point where Aria thought she was looking at a walking corpse. Yet she was game. Always game. 

“I was thinking you and I would employ violence. Lots of it,” Aria said. 

“I’m in.” 

Aria smiled back, trying very hard not to feel guilty. 

***

Nyreen. Another surprise. 

Aria had suspected that she had never left Omega but could never prove it. If she were being truthful, she probably hadn’t really wanted to know--a final parting gift to them both. The breakup had been messier than Aria anticipated, especially since they both had seen it coming the moment they started sleeping together. Whatever Nyreen had chosen to do with herself afterwards was none of Aria’s concern; if she wanted to play hero to the hopeless and downtrodden that was her business. So long as she didn’t get in Aria’s way. 

And now she was here, very much in Aria’s way. Although, she supposed that Nyreen assuming leadership of the Talons and directing the resistance effort in her absence held a fair amount of irony. To her credit, Nyreen had always known exactly who she was. 

“These civilians don’t have the training to stand up to Cerberus,” Nyreen said. “They’ll be wiped out.”

Aria hissed through clenched teeth. They were so close she could practically feel her hands around Petrovsky’s throat. “Casualties can’t be avoided. You’ll have to accept this.” 

“I won’t allow senseless deaths. These are innocent--”

A dry, gravelly laugh came from the other side of the lift. Shepard was leaning against the wall in the corner, rifle held lazily in her arms. Flecks of blood were splattered across her cheek. That same damn smirk was plastered across her face, but there was no amusement in her voice. 

“I used to be like you,” Shepard said. “I used to think I could save everyone. That there was some cosmic scale that balanced everything out. Do good be rewarded, do evil and be punished. Turns out none of that shit matters, and the quicker you realize that, the better off you’ll be.” 

She pushed herself off the wall and stepped towards Nyreen, flipping her rifle over to check the heat sink. “You want to help those civilians? We’ll split up. Take your crew and lead the frontal assault, Aria and I will circle around and meet you at the markets before Cerberus can reach Afterlife. And once we’re done here, you’re more than welcome to join me in Council space. Plenty of innocents getting killed over there.” 

Shepard slammed her fist into the control panel, stopping the lift, then jerked her head at the door. Aria sidled up beside her. Nyreen just shook her head and sighed. 

“You two deserve each other.” 

Aria glanced over and met Shepard’s gaze. Red eyes stared back, burning yet lifeless at the same time. 

***

Petrovsky was smaller than she remembered, which probably had something to do with the way he squirmed underneath her hands. 

Aria grit her teeth as she tightened her grip around his throat. Biotic energy swirled around them both, pinning Petrovsky against the control panel. Of all the people she’d killed, he had argued the most eloquently for his life. His final error, though, had been directing his speech towards Shepard, as if he expected her to intervene. Shepard had walked away before he even finished speaking. Aria had taken it from there. 

Fear had its own unique smell, and Petrovsky was rank with it. His panicked eyes bulged from their sockets, red blooming in the white as tiny blood vessels burst. Shiny boots scraped helplessly against the ground. Petrovsky’s hands clamped around hers, futilely trying to push her away. Usually, Aria preferred these things to be quick and clean. But in this case, she wanted to revel in it, make Petrovsky suffer for all that he had done to her, to Nyreen, to Omega. 

Aria loosened her hands, teasing Petrovsky with a breath of air, then clamped back down again. Petrovsky let out a weak whine in protest. Her grimace turned into a wide, toothy smile as her eyes slowly turned black. 

Oh, yes. She would enjoy this. 

When it was all over, Aria found Shepard just outside the converted VIP section that had, until very recently, served as Petrovsky’s office. The human was standing so she was partially concealed in a dark corner. When Aria approached, she saw that Shepard was unsteady on her feet. In her shaking hand was a medigel pack, which she was trying to weakly jab into her side. Just above her left hip was a gaping, smoking hole in her armor. A deep grimace twisted across Shepard’s face. 

“The first aid protocols are fried,” she explained, voice hitching. “Must have been that last adjutant. Fucker.” 

Aria took the medigel and bent down to peer at the wound. Blood dribbled from the jagged pieces of her armor, running down Shepard’s leg. Aria shook her head. She carefully maneuvered the pack into the hole and pressed it against the wound. Shepard hissed. 

Aria gestured with her unoccupied hand without looking up. “Another one.”

She shoved that pack in as well, perhaps harder than necessary. Shepard hissed again and staggered forward, hand shooting out to grab Aria’s shoulder. Aria let it rest there, her own palm lingering gently over Shepard’s wound. 

“I actually thought you might interfere. Thank you,” Aria said. 

“Petrovsky deserved everything coming to him. And more.” The hitch was gone from Shepard’s voice and she seemed to relax as the dosages of medigel hit her system. Even her eyes softened, and for a second Aria could almost guess what their original color were. “I’m sorry about Nyreen.” 

Aria tried to brush it off, but the sincerity in the statement still made her chest tighten. “She went out the way she wanted to. Not all of us are lucky to get a choice.” 

Shepard just shrugged, a blithe acknowledgment of the truth in what was said. She didn’t move away. 

The kiss that followed could have almost been described as tender. Deep and unhurried, Aria allowed herself to be drawn in, blaming the underlying exhaustion she still felt from taxing her biotics earlier. She held back a shudder as Shepard’s hand trailed across her shoulder and up the back of her crest. Aria almost shoved her away at such a bold gesture, but then realized what was happening. Shepard wasn’t making a move. She was saying goodbye. 

When they pulled away, the look on Shepard’s face confirmed Aria’s suspicions. The human grabbed her helmet and tucked it under arm, then gave Aria a jaunty salute, as if she hadn’t been about to bleed out all over the VIP section. 

“I’ll see you around, Aria.” 

And with one final, irritating smirk she was gone. 

***

Aria kept her word. Troops, supplies, weapons, ammo, eezo--she had sent it all, and then some. She didn’t move from Omega, though, and remained engrossed in rebuilding her kingdom, even as the war raged. There was no doubt the Reapers would reach the Terminus, and when they did, Aria would give those fuckers a fight they had never seen before. At least, that’s what she said publicly. And loudly. As often as possible.

Privately, she devoured every news and intel update she could, tracking Shepard’s progress. Each time the Reapers advanced, Shepard would be there, leading the counterattack and striking back as hard as she could. Even after Thessia fell, the combined military forces of the galaxy still rallied under Shepard’s banner. The Crucible was nearly complete. There was still a chance. And Aria allowed herself a spark of hope. 

She followed the assault on Earth in her VIP suite, sitting on her newly upholstered couch, heavy beats from the dancefloor thrumming in the background. Eventually, Shepard reached the Citadel. 

Then the Sahrabarik relay went dark. 

It took months to receive word that Shepard had done it. The reports filtered in slowly, just small chunks of messages caught by barely functioning comm buoys, but eventually Aria was able to piece everything together. The Crucible had worked. Shepard had personally fired the thing from inside the Citadel, and the subsequent blast had not only disabled each and every Reaper, but sent a massive shock wave through the entire relay network, rendering them inoperable. Interstellar travel was no longer an option. The Citadel had been blown in half and was now trapped in a decaying orbit around Earth. Shepard’s body had never been recovered. 

Yet, life would go on. It always did. Omega had existed as a haven for criminals, terrorists, and malcontents for thousands of years and if Aria had her way, would continue for thousands more. And so she carried on like she always: making Omega a home for anyone who wanted to be free. So long as they stayed out of her way. 

Aria immediately set on rebuilding. First priority were the comm buoys; she grabbed every engineer she could find, threw them onto the nearest ship, and told them to fix every buoy they could reach or to not bother coming back again. After a moment’s thought, she tossed some extra credits their way and asked (as opposed to ordered, after Grizz gave her a look) them to examine the relay while they were at it. A few weeks later, the group returned and reported positively that the relay didn’t appear to be structurally damaged at all. They posited that the massive shock wave generated by the Crucible dissipated the farther it expanded from its epicenter, and as such the relays in the deepest reaches of the galaxy could potentially still be operational. Aria rewarded the news with more credits and a handful of Batarian cigars, from last box in the sector.

Cleaning up the gangs was next. A few had grown too emboldened by the chaos in the wake of the Cerberus occupation and needed to be reminded of the order of things in Omega. Most she dispatched herself. Those gang leaders that Aria deemed still valuable were handed over to the Talons. After some deliberation, she had decreed that the remnants of Nyreen’s organization would still be allowed to operate within the confines of the territory they had sliced away from Cerberus. Aria even tacitly approved its dedication towards helping the most downtrodden of Omega’s inhabitants. Although, if you asked her, the cigars were a more generous offering. 

It wasn’t until a full year after the war ended that Aria heard the first rumor. 

Through a series of engineering marvels Aria was hard-pressed to explain, the relay network was gradually repaired, and equal parts criminals and refugees began appearing at Omega once more. They brought the stories with them, too; tales of heroism and sacrifice, each from a different point of view, starring whatever species they were a part of. And of course, that of Shepard, who was just as inescapable in death as she was in life--if you believed she was even dead. 

Aria took the rumor with a healthy skepticism. Yet, she couldn’t help but be curious and tracked down the source. He was a human, just arrived all the way from Earth, claiming to have once been a colonel in the Alliance military. Now he was a deserter, leaving behind death and ruin, determined to live his final days drowning in whiskey with a dedication Aria couldn’t help but admire. His claim was the Shepard was alive, her body recovered from the wreckage of the Citadel nearly broken beyond repair. That he had seen the commander himself, quarantined in the back of a field hospital in Johannesburg. And that once the doctors had determined that Shepard would live, was part of the committee that decided no one would ever know about it. Granted, he was a drunk, but a very compelling drunk. 

The small ship appeared about six months later, eighteen months after the defeat of the Reapers. Aria had been appraised of its arrival by an adolescent turian, swaggering into Afterlife with the unearned confidence of youth. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen, probably orphaned by the war, but claimed he carried a message from the Shadow Broker. Aria had booted him out the door. Literally.

Then Shepard walked in. 

It was like Aria had been slapped with a singularity, as if time were both passing and standing still. Shepard sauntered up the stairs to the VIP section like nothing had ever changed. Red hair still cropped short, same aggravating smirk. Same scars, although they had faded and seemed to have actually healed. The smoldering implants were gone. Instead, Aria looked into a pair of brown eyes, so dark they could almost be black. Shepard walked with a hitch in her step and a wince flashed across her face when she sat down. But she was soon smiling again. 

“Nice job on the upholstery.” Shepard ran her hand across the couch, now a deep, rich purple.

Aria scoffed and looked away. Shepard didn’t need to know how much of a pain in the ass it really had been to get the damn thing refurbished. She waved at the server hovering nearby. Two drinks were deposited in front of them--brandy, of course, a far cry from the swill endured on the Citadel. Another wave and the server left, locking the door behind her. 

“What the hell do you want, Shepard?”

Shepard took her time answering, swirling the brandy in her glass before taking a long swallow. “I had a krogan on my crew once, years ago. He told me a story about an old friend he had, an asari commando that he ended up being contracted to kill. They agreed to fight it out on an old salarian space station. It took him three days to track her down, but just when he did the station core was going critical. He barely made it off in time and was certain there was no way she could have escaped. Yet, days later he received a message from her, telling him, ‘better luck next time.’”

Aria shifted. “Cute. What does that have to do with me?”

“I had a lot of time to think this past year--it’s pretty much all you can do when your entire body is in traction, actually. And I kept on going back to that commando. I thought about how good it must have felt, to blow everything up and leave it all behind. To become someone else.” 

“And what makes you think she wanted to leave it all behind? What if she was really fucking pissed about how it all went down?” Aria kept her face neutral and gave her own brandy a swirl, mimicking Shepard’s earlier movements. 

“Because I think if she didn’t want to start over, that krogan never would have ended up on my crew. He would have been dead long before that.”

Aria sighed, almost wistfully, then allowed herself a wry smile. She didn’t know how Shepard had put the pieces together, but she wasn’t surprised. “I always wondered what happened to that old bastard.”

Shepard cleared her throat roughly, then drained her liquor. Aria cocked her head at the reaction. Usually Shepard was more guarded than that. She wondered what else Shepard wanted to leave behind, what else could never be undone, well before the Reapers had even invaded. 

“Is that what you want, Shepard?” Aria asked. “To become someone else?” 

“I thought I might see someone who knew a few things about starting over.” Shepard shrugged, then gestured with both hands, displaying empty palms.

And so at the end of it all, the hero that had risked everything found herself exiled. Sent away to the corner of the galaxy reserved for pirates and smugglers and other unsavory types, who lived forgotten, lawless existences. Aria knocked back the remainder of her drink, letting the harsh burn of the brandy wash away the bitterness rising in her throat. Shepard deserved better. 

But maybe now she could be free. Maybe now she could have a choice. 

Aria made the decision quickly. She slung a leg over Shepard’s waist, straddling her lap and pushing her back into the couch. Shepard swallowed a grunt, but still fixed her with that cocky look. With a flick of her wrist Aria’s biotics flared, wrapping around Shepard’s hands and pinning them to the couch. Aria caught Shepard’s chin and tilted her head back, looking into brown eyes so dark it was almost like the human was capable of initiating a meld. 

“Don’t get comfortable,” Aria said in a low growl. 

Shepard turned serious for a moment, grin faltering. “I know what this is, Aria. All I’m asking for is some time.” 

“Then what?”

“There has to be some part of the galaxy I haven’t pissed off yet.” 

Her biotics faded away. Shepard’s hands slowly slid up the outside of her thighs to grip her waist, pulling her closer. Aria trailed a finger down Shepard’s jaw. “You’ll need a name.”

The grin was back. “Any suggestions?” 


End file.
